


The Man Called King

by ShiDreamin



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Secret Identity, Zine: Golden Dearest – A Claudeleth Zine (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiDreamin/pseuds/ShiDreamin
Summary: “Yeah? What do you think of little ol’ King Khalid?”“I think he needs to learn to take no for an answer,” she snaps. At his chuckle, she can’t help rearing back to glare at him. This close, it’s easy for her eyes to trace his, the warmth of his arms around her waist suddenly apparent.“You don’t want to marry him? He’s a king, you know.” His eyes slant, playful. It’s both familiar and foreign, reminiscent of the boy she once taught and the man he is now. She swallows.“I’m queen. What about it?”“You’d live the rest of your life in comfort.” Claude shrugs, glancing away for a moment. “It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to marry him, that’s all.”-Byleth just wants this Khalid guy to know that she's intent on marrying Claude.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 166
Collections: Zine Pieces





	The Man Called King

There are places on this vast globe called Earth that don’t happen to be located in a sweltering desert, landlocked with mountainous ranges, and not boiling Byleth alive. Unfortunately, none of those lands happen to share the name of Almyra.

“We’re almost there! The capital’s just within an hour!” Nader laughs, clapping Byleth on the back with his remarkably not sweaty hands. She manages a grimace.

Perhaps it’s not fair to complain so insistently on the beating sun, the dry air, the fact that she’s sweated out perhaps two ocean’s worth of water. When Nader had taken one glance at her luggage at Fodlan’s locket before bursting into unrestrained laughter, she had bitten back her confused irritation. Now, four days after crossing Fodlan’s throat, she’s well aware why. Still, for all of its unbearable heat, Almyra is beautiful.

Desert sands make up the majority of the nation, grainy slopes that descend into oasis towns and marble cities. The mountains ascend past the clouds; in the twilight, she can see the mountains against the stars, illuminating. From here, atop the black wyvern Nader had brought for her, she can see the curves left behind of the deep rivers running through the country, bringing life to its people.

For all its beauty, however, she cannot quell the discomfort in her stomach at the reason why she’s come.

“I’d like to see you in person. I will send a friend to pick you up from Fodlan’s Locket in four days from the arrival of this letter. You will know him.

I look forward to meeting you, love.”

Marriage.

It’s not an unusual offer in theory—since her ascension to both bishop and ruler of Fodlan, there have been no small number of men pushed her way, nobles and commoners alike touted by their mothers in an attempt to gain her favor. Some had even offered twins, or a joint union with their neighbor’s sons, as though somehow giving Byleth more than one husband was a gift.

She had said no, joking that she was married to her work. It was only partly true: before Claude had disappeared, he had expressed his desires to open Fodlan to the world, to rebuild the bridges they had burned. And so Byleth did, arranging trade agreements with Sreng, witnessing Petra’s joyous marriage firsthand as friend and ally, and even visiting the remains of Duscur, which has been slowly rebuilt from the ground up. All in the name of his dream.

She hasn’t seen him since he kissed her at the tower.

No one has.

“Something on your mind?” Nader’s words are a welcome break from her inner turmoil. Byleth shrugs in reply, wounding her hands tight in her wyvern’s reigns before nodding to him with a grin.

“I’ll race you to the capital.”

“You don’t even know the way!”

The directions themselves tend not to matter when there’s no mistaking the capital in all its glory: built into the side of a mountain are giant glass domes and polished marble pillars that uphold a bustling city overlooking pillars of waterfalls that spill into the ocean, and behind that, miles of water that touch the sky. Wyverns crowd the skies, crossing over land in deep greens and gold hues. Atop them sit women in tight beige trousers, draped with scarves lined with lace and jewels. Byleth cannot help her gasp at the sight, rearing her wyvern back to properly take in the view.

“Beautiful sight, isn’t it?” Nader slides in besides her, smiling as he takes in the city once more. He descends first, leading her gently towards a tiled platform held up by spiraling towers, vines dangling from the overflowing balconies.

“It is. I’ve never thought…” Her mouth stills as their wyverns descend, the flaps of their wings sending the sprawling curtains flying to the side. Behind them are a dozen men in white silks and patterned cloth pants that drape to the floor, each holding what seems to be a golden pot. Even further from them, now rapidly approaching, is a face she’s longed for.

“Kiddo! I thought you were going to wait until dinner!” Nader’s laughter is warbling in her brain, bouncing around almost as rapidly as her jaw drops. What? _What?_

The moment their wyverns touch the tile floor; it is as if a lock has been opened. Suddenly there is a surge of men everywhere, the gold pots opened to reveal scarfs dyed rainbow, draped around Nader, Byleth, tied lovingly by their wyverns as their luggages are taken away and the wyverns led to a resting spot from the beating sun. They speak in Almyran, and though Byleth can proudly say she’s studied the language enough to understand the letters sent her way by the Almyran king, their words are rapid and she can do little more than blink and sputter in response. It doesn’t help, of course, that her eyes can hardly stray from the one man taking gentle steps closer, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

“Claude? Is that—I mean,” the words die on her lips as his own stretch wider, a flash of his teeth shiny in the sunny glow.

“Hey there, teach.”

He looks—good. Gone are the skinny protrusions of his ribs during war when food inventory ran low: Claude smiles at her wrapped in gold thread so reminiscent of his Barbarossa gear, familiar deep greens and pinks embroidery hanging over his shoulders, a wide patterned band around his waist that falls over the sheer white cloth drapes over his legs. There are gold flowers braided into his hair, and from each ornament a string of pearls and gems. His face is rounder now, captivating in the way a healthy man should be, and in the moment concern fades to anger.

“Claude? _Claude?!”_ His grin disappears in a flash, looking every bit like his seventeen self when he tries to cower from her growing scowl, “where have you been? It’s been nearly a year with no contact!” His mouth opens before it snaps shut with a click as her eyes narrow, “I have gotten nothing: no messages, no letters, nothing. Hilda hasn’t, Lorenz, anyone! Do not play with me, Claude Von Riegen!”

Nader whistles behind her, glancing over to Claude’s wide eyes, growing mortification as Byleth continues to glare at him.

“Now, now, lassie, he may implode if you keep that up.” Claude manages a jerky nod. It’s a testament to how off guard he is that Nader manages to wrangle a hand to ruffle his hair, earning a pout. He makes a bare attempt to compose himself, patting down his pants before meeting Byleth’s eyes once more.

“I’ve been here. In Almyra,” his arms spread then, and now that the men have dispersed, she can see the familiar snout of Claude’s beloved white wyvern crawling closer, “it may be easier to explain alone. Shall we?”

The sane answer would be no, they shan’t, because Byleth’s practically lived on a wyvern’s back for the past four days. But there’s a long, thin saddle in place, reins meant for two, and the moment Claude’s eyes widen in that false innocence she knows the battle is lost.

“Fine.”

If Almyra was beautiful on the flight over, it’s doubly so now, gliding to the east of the capital over the open waters. She’s seen the sun four days over, yet it’s stunning still as the light dances over the sea, reflecting off boats and the people by the shore. There are hundreds of colorful tents and huts in the bazaar along the beach, and under them thousands more Almyrans. It’s a wonderful country, of wonderful people.

Claude’s arms are wrapped around her still as he directs her to the ins and outs. There’s a cluster of mountain peaks to the distance: one particular barren one is supposedly the home to wyvern gods. When they dip near the sea, so close the smell of salt stings in her nostrils, he talks about how legends say the water parts at twilight, when the ocean’s seahorses fly.

It's been so long since Byleth has been an audience to Claude’s rambling that she could almost forget it’s a nervous habit of his. He’s changed in their year apart: he’s centered now, an easy going demeanor that’s mostly genuine. But the occasional worrying of his lip betrays him, and she meets his eyes when they turn back to the capital, the sun now meeting the waters in the far sea.

“We should get back. I have to attend dinner,” Byleth’s voice drops into something of a grumble. Claude laughs; the gold flowers in his hair glint in the fading sunlight.

“You don’t need to worry about that. They won’t dine until we’re back, anyway.” Her eyebrow raises, immaculate, and he grins. “Do you know who you’re dining with?”

“King Khalid.” It’s impossible not to groan as she says the name, memories of the dozens of letters passed between them. It’s his turn to raise an eyebrow, and she grumbles. “He’s invited me here to try to talk me into marriage, that bast—jerk.” Seteth would be proud at Byleth’s continued censorship in front of her student.

But then again, it’s been a long time since she’s seen Claude as just her student.

“Yeah? What do you think of little ol’ King Khalid?”

“I think he needs to learn to take no for an answer,” she snaps. At his chuckle, she can’t help rearing back to glare at him. This close, it’s easy for her eyes to trace his, the warmth of his arms around her waist suddenly apparent.

“You don’t want to marry him? He’s a king, you know.” His eyes slant, playful. It’s both familiar and foreign, reminiscent of the boy she once taught and the man he is now. She swallows.

“I’m queen. What about it?”

“You’d live the rest of your life in comfort.” Claude shrugs, glancing away for a moment. “It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to marry him, that’s all.”

He’s right. Byleth’s been courted by enough nobles to know what they have to offer and it’s nothing to scoff at. King Khalid, for all his pushiness, is an eloquent man who details his many adventures in uniting Almyra with the rest of the world. His passion for opening the gates between Almyra and Fodlan is inspiring, and she’s reluctant to admit the almost childish innocence of his joy at the simplest things, such as peaceful dinners with his parents, has caused a smile to adorn her face more than once.

King Khalid, at least in text, wouldn’t be a bad man to marry at all.

But.

“I’m already married to my work,” Byleth sighs. Claude’s smile remains, though now it’s quirked as he takes her in. The set to her shoulders, the grimace on her face, the shallow breath she exhales before meeting his eyes.

“I can’t marry King Khalid.” Byleth’s heart burns in a way she’s never felt before. It’s loud, ricocheting in her chest, and a part of her curses Claude for making her feel this way. A larger part of her roars, and parts her lips with ease. 

“I want to marry you.”

Claude’s mouth sits agape, his emerald eyes wide as they take her in. Surprise, genuine surprise, of the kind that she’s rarely seen from him, that he’d rarely allow to be seen. Now, his arms still tucked around her waist, her hand on his own, she’s laid herself bare.

“Oh.” It’s breathless, the kind of whispers meant for no one. There’s the beginnings of pink across his cheeks, ear to ear, and this close she can feel his warmth. Byleth smiles.

“I’ve loved you since we’ve met, after all.” His jaw shut, but his eyes remain wide, sparkling, and her heart sings. “Don’t look so shocked. You asked for me, didn’t you?” Amusement warms her words, Byleth’s fingers interweaving with his as she pauses.

“I’ve never kissed another man before,” she confesses, taking in Claude’s inhale with pride. “I’ve sworn to wait for you, even if it takes forever.”

“You have a lot of suitors.” It’s meek, a weak excuse and for it Byleth laughs.

“I’m only interested in one.”

“What about politics? A Fodlan noble may be better.” Stronger, but off-mark. Claude’s teeth drag along his bottom lip.

“I wasn’t born a noble, and I wouldn’t be queen if not for you.” It earns her a smile, half-hearted, before he’s quiet once more. The desert sands are blazing orange and purple as the sun waves its final farewell, beckoning Byleth to pick up speed.

“You said you haven’t heard from me in a year. What if I disappear again?” Claude’s voice is soft, fragile in a way he hasn’t dared reveal in years. For it, Byleth squeezes his fingers, turning so that she may properly take him in.

“I’ll find you,” through sands and above waters, the world itself is only so big, “I’ll find you, and I’ll marry you.”

“You might not love who I really am.” Claude’s lips shiver as a shaky smile marks his face, something sarcastic, something true.

That’s impossible.

“I’ll always love you,” Byleth promises, and if it were not for the fact that they were in air she may have perhaps kissed him right there.

The balcony they return on is the same she had flown on earlier that day. The curtains blow open to reveal the men dressed in white silks, gold pots in hands; Claude descends first, sliding his hands off her waist but not before giving her a gentle squeeze. There’s more Almyran, words she vaguely follows about King and dinner, and it’s when one of the men pull back Claude’s hair to slide out those gold flowers, a circlet in his hand, that it falls into place.

She’s been schemed, a dozen identifying clues forging together as Claude ducks his head, allowing the gold circlet to settle in his messy locks. There’s a smile on his face, genuine, the earlier worrying of his lip gone when he straightens once more. The gold threads and familiar embroidery click.

The flowers woven into his shirt are the same as the ones stamped in wax on King Khalid’s letters.

He turns to her, perhaps with a smirk, perhaps a laugh. It doesn’t matter when her feet stomp forward without her thought, when her hands grasp his face with such ease, when the sunset behind is as familiar as the one lingering by the Goddess tower.

She kisses him with all the joy of a lost love found.

“King Khalid,” Byleth murmurs as they break, the familiar scheming twinkle in his eyes as damning as it is charming.

“Queen Byleth,” Khalid responds. She thinks of the letters, the proposals, Nader’s smirk when she asked who Khalid was. She thinks of Claude, Khalid, writing each one out. She thinks of herself, the smiles she hadn’t been able to hide, the ring she wears around her neck.

She thinks about marriage.

She thinks about love.

She thinks about happiness, with Khalid’s ring on her finger.

“I think,” Byleth whispers, her mouth betraying in a wide smile, “I’ve waited long enough for you.” Khalid matches her grin, rosy warmth to his cheeks as he brings their hands together.

“I think you have.”

**Author's Note:**

> ITS A POSTING TIME!!!  
> I have such a backlog of zine fics can you believe I wrote this sometime in March/April? Just how many things am I hiding away in my zines?! honestly even I can't keep track anymore
> 
> It has been my honor to mod for, write for, and draw for [ Golden Dearest, a Claudeleth zine ](https://twitter.com/claudelethz/) I wrote this fic and pinch-hitted another fic I'll be posting shortly, as well as contributed a set of icons for digital merch! The zine was a whole lot of fun and includes over 100 pages of good ol claudeleth content if you're interested in leftover sales ^^
> 
> This fic was my OG contribution. It's been months and I'm still not over Claude's partner coming to visit him in Almyra- when we getting that worldbuilding IS?! WHEN!!
> 
> Judge my life choices on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/shidreamin/)


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